


Secrets are a Drag

by CherryValiant



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Drag Queens, Drag Show, F/M, Fluff, Makeover, Secrets, seriously, super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryValiant/pseuds/CherryValiant
Summary: No one knows Damien likes makeup and hair, because he would kill anyone who did. But when a non-local drag show pops up, you go with old friends, not expecting to see anyone you recognize. But you super do recognize someone, and something unexpectedly sweet comes from a shared secret.





	1. Chapter 1

You stand, staring at your bed. Your hair in curlers, your makeup half done, you study the three outfits chucked to your fuzzy blue comforter, your painted fingernail tapping your chin in thought. Maybe the little black dress was the best option, you finally sigh, snatching it from your bed and hurrying back to your tiny bathroom. 

The dress was snug, but that was the point. You begin to pull the curlers from your head, dancing and singing to the Catty Perry song coming through your phone. You could barely contain your excitement long enough to finish the other wing of your eyeliner. You plump up your hair, singing dramatically into the mirror, only to drive your shin into the toilet on accident.

“You okay, honey?” dad calls up the stairs after you let out a long string of curses. You holler back that you’re fine, rubbing your leg carefully and grabbing your phone.  
you sluts ready?, you text to the group chat. Several screaming GIFs follow, and you grin and bounce to find your high heels underneath the bed. Strapping them to your feet, you grab a jacket and your purse and shuffle down the stairs. 

“You have money?” your dad calls from the living room, and you see his wild white hair before you see his face. You shoot him a thumbs up. “And you’ll only drink excessively if you reeaally have a good time, right?”

“Always, dad!” you chuckle, clicking over to him to give him a hug. He was still dressed from work, having only found the energy to kick off his shoes. He’s watching a documentary about bees. You hear a honk from the street, and wave goodbye as you struggle to stay up in heels.

You had recently reached out to a bunch of old friends from your previous high school, and they had convinced you to come with them to a drag show a few towns over. It was only a 45 minute drive, but as you pile into the back seat of a borrowed minivan, you felt suddenly nervous. Maybe Amira was right, and you should have gone with the short shorts and tanktop.

“You’re stressing,” Natalia scolds from beside you, her six arms all covered in bracelets. One of her hands rests on your leg, the other on your shoulder. Goat eyes find yours in the rearview mirror, ram horns curling around the driver’s seat. 

You confess that you felt a little anxious, feeling bad for falling out of touch when you moved. The car erupts into laughter, each old friend telling you that it was no problem. Instead of listening to music, they all ask you questions about Spooky High, and you ask them about Shelly’s School for the Gifted. Not much had changed, you sigh in relief as you eventually pull up to the gay bar. 

It was packed with cars, chariots, and various other forms of monster transportation. Sadie eventually finds a spot, bleating in frustration the entire time as she circled the parking lot. As everyone files out of the car, you scan the crowd of smokers outside. Most were done up in drag glamor, but in their underclothes and without wigs. They cheer as the group passes, praising everyone’s outfits and hair. You fucking loved queens.

Inside the club was packed, but there was no one you recognized. You hobble along with the group, the music vibrating the bolts in your neck. You felt a buzz from the heavy perfume and smoke enveloping you, people brushing into you with every step. Natalia takes everyone’s hand – leaving her with three free hands – and leads you towards the second row of chairs facing a runway. 

“Eeeee! This is so exciting!” Sadie dances as she walks, her hooves clacking against the wooden floor. A ghost floats through you, then apologizes profusely as she hurries to her seat. You get the impression that you had arrived just before the show started. The music cuts just as your group sits down and shucks off their jackets, and your attention is drawn to the stage. 

“Monsters and ghouls! Ladies and gentlemen! Put your claws together for your host tonight; Miss Pharaoh Moon!” Everyone erupts into cheers as the music picks up again, and fog rolls from backstage. A beautiful mummy saunters onto the stage, singing a song you don’t recognize. Her legs are long and covered in bandages, her makeup flawless. You cheer wildly, digging a five dollar bill from your purse and waving it for the queen. She winks at you as she descends the short stairs on the runway, giving you a short lap dance before moving on to the other side.

When the song is over, the club erupts again, and Pharaoh Moon bows deeply. 

“Hooo! Y’all know what’s up!” she cheers, her voice accented by whatever magic kept her together. The club cheers again, quieting down as she begins to talk about what a bitch traffic was. 

“Driiiinks!” Sadie sings beside you, flagging down a fairy waiter and handing you a glass of something green. Fuck it, you think, and down the whole thing in one go. You hadn’t been hanging out with Polly for nothing.

“Well, ladies and queers,” Pharaoh huffs after her introductory routine was finished. “Who wants to see a local favorite tonight?” Everyone cheers, and you do too, even though you has no idea who any performers were tonight. 

“Then let me introduce your favorite local girl. A hellish little vixen from down under, Miss Lilith Calidi!”

The music starts as the mummy saunters off stage, and you recognizes the Sher song immediately. The banshee Sher was a huge gay icon, so it made sense that the second act would honor her. For the first time, you notice a shadow screen at the center of the stage, close enough to the curtains that no one could peek around it. Smoke starts rolling from the curtains, and the figure behind the screen strikes a pose. 

An arrow-tipped tail flashes, and you giggle to yourself as you imagine Damien being the one behind the screen. Whoever it was had some baller moves, and could dance like nobodies business in those high heels. She kept running her tail along the edges of the screen, giving little peeks but never fully revealing who she was. The crowd around you was absolutely loving it. As the bridge of the song gives way to the first chorus, the screen is blasted through with fire, and as the edges burn, you choke on the drink you were about to chug.

It was Damien. It was Damien in a long-sleeved halter top and booty shorts, makeup and wig done to perfection, but that was 100% his broken horn, his angular face under all that makeup. Natalia uses three hands to slap your back as you cough out your drink, your hair falling in your face as Damien struts past you. You look up with wide eyes, his attention on the outer crowd, his plump, painted lips singing about how it’s a woman’s world. He dances and sways, his asscheeks teasingly hanging from his shorts. His tail slashed the air with every sway of his hips. You were mesmerized. You faintly registered Sadie and Natalia staring at you, their eyebrows raised, but they didn’t ask why you were so shocked. In the aisle seat, you had direct access to the queens, which was once a fun idea that now terrified you as Damien sashayed down the steps in beat to the song. 

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breathe, cursing your own stupidity. In your stupor, you never thought to make a dash for the bathroom until his song was done, and now he’s coming right for you! You lower your head to your phone, your wild hair covering your face in a desperate attempt for him to just walk by and not single you out. 

You feel a tug on your left side, and slowly look up into burning, yellow eyes. It takes him only a second to recognize you, and a flash of panic plays across his face. He loses his momentum, but only for a beat, whipping around to face the other side of the aisle. You sit, paralyzed, like you’d just walked in on someone fucking a peacock, as he flounces back on stage, falling to his hands and knees for a sexy tease in the final lap of the song. 

His eyes keep flicking back to you. You feel like you should apologize to him, but you have no idea what you would say. He snaps to his feet at the last chorus, finishing the song with a crazy split. The crowd fucking loves it. Everyone around you rises to their feet, but not you. 

He’s panting, sweating, his black wig a little more wild now. Pharaoh Moon comes out clapping, embracing him as he waves and blows kisses. His eyes snap to you in the crowd – the only one sitting in shock – and the same look of panic flashes across his face as he disappears back stage. 

“What’s wrong?” Sadie asks, and you suddenly snap out of your spell. 

“Oh, uh, I just… have to use the bathroom!” you lie, bolting to your feet and going as fast as you can to the ladies room. You find it, but Damien finds you first. His real hair was wild from being under a wig, and he was still in full costume. Your eyes glance down to his glamoured boobs, and then quickly look away. 

“Hey, Dames,” you laugh nervously, staring intently at his heels. His tail was flashing in an anxious pattern, and he doesn’t say anything, just grabs your arm and hauls you outside. You end up behind the building, next to the cooks’ dumpster, before he turns on you again.

“Why are you here?” he snaps, and you back up a step. He smelled like smoke and perfume, even more so now that you were suffocated in it.

“It’s a public show, and-”

“Is anyone else here?” he cuts you off, grabbing both your arms and shaking you slightly. You think he’s angry – not a stretch, since he usually is – but you catch something you’ve never seen on him before. Actual fear. His eyes were wide and focused on yours, his face flushed with embarrassment, his tail slashing wildly behind him. 

You shake your head, reaching up and placing both hands on his shoulders. He looks startled, but doesn’t push you away. 

“I came with friends from my other school. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He looks down at you, a wave of relief washing over his very well-highlighted face, and he finally drops your arms. He stares at you, crossing his arms over his chest, which was now back to its usual masculine form. You share stares for a second.

“You’re really fucking good!” you finally burst. Knowing he wasn’t going to beat the shit out of you gave you back your usual energy. “Like, holy fuck, dude! That was by far the coolest, most arousing thing I’ve ever seen. Who knew you had such cool moves? And such a juicy booty!? Hah, sorry, that was too much. But for real! Unless you’re-”

Damien begins to laugh. He laughs until he’s doubled over, and you sense all the fear he’d been building up since he spotted you is coming out now. You cross your arms and pout until he stands, whipping a tear from his face. Somehow – probably magic – his makeup doesn’t run.

“Fuck, am I glad it was you,” he grins wildly at you. “All this time, I was worried it would be Vera or Amira, and I am not ready to have this out there yet, but you’re so...” he studies you for the first time, taking in your little black dress and makeup, which, compared to his, was absolute dog shit. His smile softens just a little. 

“I really owe you, man,” he finally sighs. You quickly hug him, and back away before he can punch you. 

“Anytime, Damien!” you shout over your shoulder as you head back inside. “Maybe you can do my makeup sometime!”

You return to your friends, feeling a lot better about your new shared secret. You have a wild time, and after intermission, Damien – excuse me, Lilith Calidi – does her second show. It’s just as good as the first one, and as he descends the stairs to your side of the runway, you wave a fistful of ones towards him. He grins, pointed teeth flashing, giving you a sexy lapdance. You stick the ones in various places on him, your face flushed wildly at his closeness. He nips at your earlobe before standing, and you gasp. Your friends cheer you on wildly as his tail caresses your exposed thigh as he dances away.

That night, as you peel off your heels and very sweaty dress and shower, you flop onto the bed and find two messages. One from your group chat, full of pictures of everyone having a good time. One from Damien, that only said: how would u feel about makeover mondays?

You roll around excitedly in your bed before passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday at lunch, you were stuffing your face with mashed potatoes. Amira was to your left, dumping hot sauce on her food – drink included – and Brian was to your right, sawing the fingers off a human hand with a bread knife. Oz was gushing about the new monster in class, the little shadow blobs blushing along side him as he spoke. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you stop shoving food into your face long enough to see the text. 

Damien Juicybooty: tonight? 

You smile, glancing up to make sure no one else at your table could see before responding. You send him your address and a fingerguns emoji, glancing around Brian’s thick shoulders to see Damien hunched over his own phone. Scott’s tail was wagging furiously, but you didn’t know about what. 

Damien had been sending you pictures of makeup all week, and it was hard to tell, but it seemed like he was way more mellow than he had been. He’d only set one fire this week! You had continued to be supportive in any way you could; you watched all the Boo Paul videos he sent you, and had watched some makeup tutorials so you had an idea of what he was talking about. In gym, he made especially sure not to pelt you with balls. You were really bonding.

You, as per your promise, had told no one of Lilith Calidi. The lap dance he had given you, however, still flashed in your mind at awful times. His pointed canine pulling on your earlobe sprang to mind in the middle of class, and you’d had to bury your face in your books at least three times this week to hide the furious blushing.

Monday Makeovers was something you had originally thought was a joke, but Damien seemed to be really excited for it. Your dad was on a night shift tonight, so you’d spent the weekend cleaning the house. Dad had a habit of bring lab projects home with him, so you’d hidden all the equipment and beakers in the shed. 

Damien found you at the last bell, as everyone flooded their lockers. He was leaned up against yours, tail swaying against the metal. He grinned as you approached, and you felt several stares on you as you playfully shoved him out of the way.

“’Sup, nerd?” he asks, punching you lightly on the shoulder. He stood at least a foot taller than you, his messy hair seemingly less messy every day. His leather jacket was pulled over a black V-neck, light colored jeans fitting very nicely against his legs. You grab the books you needed for homework and shoved them into your bag. 

“Ready?” you ask, and he bumps his fist against yours. You follow him into the school parking lot, where you find his bike. It’s adorned with skulls that you’re pretty sure are authentic, and as he kicks the beast into action, you feel several stares upon you. Damien does, too, but instead of running the staring kids over, like you were expecting, he simply pulls two pairs of sunglasses from his pocket and hands you one.

You don’t ask why he carries two pairs, but instead jump onto the back of the leather seat, feeling the power rattle the bones in your legs as he roars out of the parking lot. Your hair was whipping wildly behind you, and you cling tightly with your thighs and throw your hands into the air. 

“Fuck yeessss!” you scream as he takes of down the road, his grin wild as he pushes the bike even faster. At a sharp turn, you scramble to wrap your hands around his torso, screaming into his neck in a fun mix of pure terror and wild excitement. You don’t notice until he parks in front of your suburban house that his tail was wrapped around your waste. How long had it been there..?

You shout into the house that you’re home, even though you knew your dad was working. You give Damien a brief guided tour, and he listens with a smirk on his face. He follows you up to your room, and you feel your heartbeat speed up as you swing open your door. 

He takes in your room with an interested eye. The pictures on your walls, the middle school trophies, your record collection. You drop to your bed, fiddling with one of your bolts, before he turns, looking overdramatically impressed. 

“Didn’t know you liked Sher, too,” he smirks, plucking an album from your stack. You recognize the single as the song he danced to last weekend. You wave your hand dismissively. 

“Doesn’t everyone like Sher?” you retort as he finally sits on your bed, pulling a huge makeup bag from his backpack. He pats the bed and shucks off his jacket, urging you to sit closer. You do, pulling off your sweater. He radiated heat, and even from this distance, you felt yourself start to warm up. 

“You look nervous,” he pokes at your stomach, and you swat him away. Of course you were! Stupid sexy Damien, sitting so close. 

“Okay, so I’m gonna start by putting your hair up,” he announces, and pulls a hair tie off his wrist. You turn around so he can gather up all of your hair, and you hear him laugh behind you.

“What?” you ask nervously.

“You have so much fucking hair! It’s wild.” You tense slightly as his fingers comb through your hair, his nails brushing slightly against your scalp. Shut up, crush, and fuck off, this is not the time, you tell yourself. When he finally wrangles all your hair into a ponytail, you turn back around. He reaches up and tucks what he couldn’t get behind your ear. You blush immediately, but he thankfully he doesn’t say anything.

“Right, so I’m gonna get any gross shit off your face before we start,” he states, tearing open a face wipe with his teeth. He unfolds it and begins to wash your cheeks. Your eyes close, and you're surprised with how gentle he is. You were expecting his makeup applications to be just as intense as he is all the time. The wipe smells like coconuts and it’s cold against your flushed skin. When you open your eyes, he’s digging through his bag, arranging brushes and palettes and bottles in a fan across your fuzzy blanket.

“Do you mind?” he asks, holding up a small jar of lip balm. You shake your head, and he scoops out a small slice onto his thumb. You part your lips, and he runs his thumb over your mouth. You lock eyes with him, and find him blushing almost as much as you were. The lip balm tasted sweet as you reflexively flicked your tongue out when he was done.

“You’re about to be moist,” he teases, lathering his hands with moisturizer and rubbing them over your face. Everything he had smelled so nice. You wonder how much money he spends on makeup, considering you recognize some of the brands as pretty expensive. He smooshes your face into various weird and stupid looking positions, making the both of you laugh.

“Eye goop!” he exclaims, using a pen and smearing some eye cream on the bags under your eyes. You notice that it’s your shade. You squint at him, and he raises an eyebrow back at you.

“Did… did you buy all new makeup for this?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Pssh, duh. We’re not exactly a matching skin tone,” he dismisses it like you’re the dumb one, but as you look around your bed, you find all the makeup is matched to your skin color. He went out of his way for this. How did he even get the color so close?

He’s moving onto the primer before you can push him further on it. 

“Okay, for real, you really spent your money on blue foundation?” you ask around a wide grin. He punches you in the arm, a slight blush to his cheeks.

“I get prince money, you fucking dork. This ain’t nothin’,” he shushes you by dabbing blue foundation onto your cheeks. It was most certainly something, but you decide to internalize it for the moment. He dabs a large yellow makeup sponge against your chin, becoming more and more rapid until you burst out laughing. 

This is how the rest of your makeover goes. He makes you laugh with every new step, switching between really gentle and absurdly overzealous. He refuses to let you see any of his mirrors, smacking your hand with whatever tool he was currently using whenever you reached for one. 

Finally, he finishes with lip gloss. Only when he’s finished, and his long fingers have combed out your hair, does he dig out a mirror and show you.

“…wow.” You are beautiful. Like, a model. Like you could be on social media, posting pics of you in a swimsuit on a beach with this make up. His golden eyes catch yours from over the top of his mirror. 

“I fucked up the one wing a little bit. Sorry about that,” he mutters. You look at him in disbelief.

“Are you fucking nuts? This is the best I’ve ever looked. Look at me!” You squeal and pull his mirror closer. You point at your face with a huge grin, like that will help him see the masterpiece even clearer. “Look at my face! I’m a goddess!” 

He grins, and you think he looks sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, maybe I could do your makeup for Prom too?” You stare at him.

“Like… as a date?” you ask. He nods.

“Uh, absolutely!? Dude, I’ve only been over here with a crush for, like, a year!” You tackle him to your bed, makeup brushes tumbling to the floor. He laughs, his eyes scrunched shut from his huge smile. With him under you, so warm and close, you feel the urge to kiss him. 

He beats you to it.


End file.
